Harry and Charlotte Potter and the Sorcerer Stone
by hayleyb29
Summary: Harry had an older sister, Charlotte. Who just happens to be a month older than her little brother. What will happen when a mysterious letter is address to the duo? What could go possibly wrong? Rated T cuz I feel like it I suck at summarys, give it a chance pleaseeee.
1. Character info

Name: Charlotte Alexandria Lily Potter  
Nicknames: Charlie(Harry and her friends)  
Family: James Potter-Father, Lily Potter-Mother, Harry Potter-Younger Brother  
Apperance: Natural Medium Blonde hair with a hint of red. ringlets that go to her waist, pale skin, green-gray eyes that change colors, and extremly skinny  
BIO: 'Ello, the name is Charlotte, Charlotte Potter. I have a younger faternal twin, Harry, and we look nothing alike, since I am waaayy cooler, if you catch my drift. You probably wouldn't even think we were related since we act totally different. I guess I act more like my father, like how Harrykins is like our mother. Oi! Sorry I have to go, Aunty P is in one of her moods today. Cheerio.  
House: TBA  
Age: 10 turning 11 on July 31th  
Crush: ummm what?  
Friends: Harry(We are friendemeis)  
Pet Peeves: People who smell bad ~Dudley~ cough cough  
Secert: I am a chocoaholic, I speak flulent Japanesse, I am in highschool, I have an IQ of 204, I have an Eidetic memory and I love the anime Sailor Moon.


	2. important notice

All my words will now be it regular black font, while J.K's words will now be in Black Bold ONLY  
Thank you very much


	3. The Boy and Girl Who Live

******I do not own Harry Potter(I wish I did though) I own only my OC Charlotte, J.K owns everything else**

**Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.  
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street.  
The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that. When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work,and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.  
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," Chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back.  
As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.  
Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.  
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime.**

**Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road To buy himself a bun from the bakery. **

**He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.**

**"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son**and daughter**, Harry **and Charlotte**." Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid.  
Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son **and daughter **called Harry **and Charlotte**. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew **or niece **was called Harry**and Charlotte**. He'd never even seen the boy or girl. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold,**maybe even Casey or Cassie**. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...**

**He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.**

**"Sorry," **

**He grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.**

**It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!" And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off. Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination. **

**As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.**

**"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!").  
Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news: "And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin.**

**"Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim." "Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight." Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain. Owls flying by daylight. Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place. And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters... **

**Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister. "No," she said sharply. "Why?" "Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..." "So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley. "Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd." Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son **and daughter **- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?" "I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly. "What's **their** name again? Howard **and Cassie**, isn't it?" "Harry **and Charlotte**. Nasty, common name, if you ask me." "Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree." He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed.**

**While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something. Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.**

**The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over - it couldn't affect them...**

**How very wrong he was.  
Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.  
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.  
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome, he was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known." He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.  
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. **

**Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked. "My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly." "You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall. "All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here." Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense." "You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years." "I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore." "It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?" "A what?" "A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of." "No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -" "My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name. All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was un-sticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name." "I know you haven't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of." "You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have." "Only because you're too - well - noble to use them." "It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."  
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying. About why he's disappeared. About what finally stopped him." It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer. "What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead. " Dumbledore bowed his head. **

**Professor McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..." Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily. Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son ****and daughter****, Harry ****and Charlotte ****. But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy****and girl****. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry ****and Charlotte**** Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone." Dumbledore nodded glumly.  
"It's - it's true." faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy ****and girl.**** It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry ****and Charlotte ****surive"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. **

**It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way." "Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places." "I've come to bring Harry ****and Charlotte ****to ****their**** aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now." "You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here." cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry ****and Charlotte ****Potter come and live here!" "It's the best place for**** them****," said Dumbledore firmly. "****Their**** aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to ****them ****when ****they're**** older. I've written them a letter." "A letter." repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter. These people will never understand****them****! ****They'll**** be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry ****and Charlotte ****Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry ****and Charlotte ****- every child in our world will know ****their** **name!" "Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's ****or girl's ****head. Famous before ****they**** can walk and talk! Famous for something ****they**** won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off ****they'll**** be, growing up away from all that until ****they're** **ready to take it."  
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy **and girl **getting here, Dumbledore." She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry ****and Charlotte ****underneath it. "Hagrid's bringing him." "You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this." "I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.** **"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that." A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.**

**If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.** **"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle." "Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got ****their ****sir." "No problems, were there?" "No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got ****them**** out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. ****They** **fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning, ****and under the girls blonde curls, was a cut, shaped as a cresend moon on her forhead.****  
"Is that where -." whispered Professor McGonagall. "Yes," said Dumbledore. "****They'll ****have that scar forever." "Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore." "Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give ****them ****here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry **and Charlotte **in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.  
"Could I - could I say good-bye to ****them****, sir." asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry ****and Charlotte ****and gave ****them**** what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog. "Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!" "S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry ****and Charlotte**** off ter live with Muggles -"  
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry ****and Charlotte**** gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's ****and Charlotte** **blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.  
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."**

**"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir." Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.**

**"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.**

**Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. "Good luck, Harry****and Charlotte****," he murmured.  
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over, ****his back facing his older sister's back,** **inside ****their**** blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and **they **slept on not knowing**** they were ****special, not knowing ****they were ****famous, not knowing **they **would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that **they** would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by ****their ****cousin Dudley...** **They** **couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry ****and Charlotte****Potter - the boy ****and girl ****who lived!"**


	4. The Vanishing Glass

**********I do not own Harry Potter(I wish I did though) I own only my OC Charlotte, J.K owns everything else**

**Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew **and niece **on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed.**

**Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets. - but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy **and a girl **lived in the house, too,** but only one was asleep. Charlotte was already dress, putting her medium curly blonde hair in a messy braid, waiting for her brother to be awoken by aunty P's scream. "Wakey wakey." she whispered shoving her brother, to only get no responds. She looked up at the clock to see it was only 11:00 am, and started the count down; 5...4...3...2...1... **"Up! Get Up! Now!" **Aunty P's voice screeched as she banged on our laughed at her brother's quick responds as he woke up like a mummy. "Hello Harrykins, had a nice nap?" she purred watching her brother with her piercing eyes, which happen to be identical to Harry's today. "You forgot didn't you?" She asked looking at her brother's curious face. "Forget what?" Harry asked stupidly. Charlotte smirked and shaked her head. "Tsk Tsk Tsk." she chirped while watching her brother remove a spider from his sock. Spiders...eww...the huge downside of living in the cupboard that wasn't even built for one. "I had a dream of a flying motorcycle." Harry said his emerald eyes meeting mine. "Really, I had a dream of a flying unicorn and a dancing leparcon doing the jig." she smirked, looking at her brother's eyes widen. "Are you freaks up yet?" Aunt Petunia demanded. "Nearly" the siblings said in sync. **"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday." Harry groaned **while Charlotte snickered under her breath at her brother.**"What did you say." **their aunt snapped through the door. "Nothing Aunt Petunia." Charlotte replied, whipping her blonde hair out of her face, showing her crescent moon scar, that she adored. She heard Aunt Petunia huffed and stalked away to the kitchen while she face her brother. "How do you always remember these things?" he whined. "Well unlike you, I have an eeidetic memory and an IQ of 204." Charlotte snorted, at her brother stupid complexion. "What?" "Ugh, never mind dumbo," She snapped, "Lets go, we shouldn't be late." she hissed, while walking swiftly out the door to the kitchen to started making breakfast. "Coming, coming." he grumbled, as he adjusted his round glasses that were held together with a lot of scotch tape. "Don't you wonder how a car crash got us these scars?" Harry asked in a quiet mumbled, which made Charlotte stop dead. Charlotte always knew her aunt and uncle lied about the car crash, but she always had a theory, but she couldn't tell her brother. "Hmmm? Strange things happen...Pass the oil." she muttered, changing the subject as fast as she good. She always wanted to ask her aunt the real reason, but that would earn her another beating, since the number 1 rule of living with the Dursley was 'Don't ask questions' which always annoyed her.  
Right when Charlotte was finishing the eggs, and Harry was cooking the bacon, Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen. "Comb your hair!" he ordered, everyone knew who he was ordering, Harry. Unlike Charlotte Harry had messy black hair, while Charlotte always had perfect curly medium blonde hair that went to her waist. Vernon always shouted how Harry needed a haircut, but every time he gets one, it always grows back. When Charlotte and Harry were making pancakes and toast, Dudley arrived in the kitchen with Aunt Petunia. **Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel - Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig**, while Charlotte often argue that Dudley was offending pigs everywhere, and that he looks like an ugly toig(a mixture of a pig and a toad).  
After the duo set the table with food, which was quite hard since there were presents everywhere covering most of the room, while the fat oaf Dudley was counting his presents. His face fell(Which Charlotte thought wasn't possible). **"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year." "Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, its here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy." "All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face.** Charlotte**, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, **nudge Harry, and both **began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over. Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin. Two more presents. Is that all right'' Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..." ** "Thirty-nine, you fat oaf dumb ass." Charlotte whispered, but loud enough for her uncle to hear, who got up and slap her, hard, across the face, leaving a huge hand mark on the side, and Charlotte in invisible tears, and a shock Harry, hugging his older sister. **At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry, **Charlotte** and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control air plane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR.**

**He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.**

**"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take **them**." She jerked her head in **sibling's **direction.** Charlotte mouth agape, in awe, while Harry was in shocked, his eyes widening. Everyone crappy year, the Dursley's always went to the coolest places for Dudley's birthdays. Sadly every year, they have to go to Mrs. Figg's house, which was tortured. Her house smelled of cabbages, and she kept showing them cat picture. **"Now what." said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at the **duo** as **though **they'd planned this. "We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested. "Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates **them." **The Dursleys often spoke about Harry **and Charlotte** like this, as though **they weren't** there - or rather, as though **they were **something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.**

* * *

_Charlotte POV_  
After a couple more names were suggested and denied, I had enough. "You just could just leave us here." I suggested. Aunty P looked like she swallowed a lemon, which would have been extremely funny if not under these conditions, "...and come back to the house in ruins." she snarled. "We won't blow up the house," Harry piped in, but they weren't listening. **"I suppose we could take **them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "...**and leave** them **in the car..." "That car's new, **they're** not sitting in it alone..." **All of the sudden, the oaf, Dudley, started crying, well fake crying, just to get what he wanted. That all stopped when the doorbell rang. Then Dudley's best friend came in, Piers Polkiss, who was a scrawny boy with a rat-like face, who always gave me the creepy stalker eye. After a long bordering half an hour later, we lucked out, because the next thing we know, we where sitting in the back of the Dursley car with Piers and Dudley to the zoo, but before they left Uncle V had toke Harry and I aside. **"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up to mine then Harry's, "I am warning you now, no funny business, anything at all-you'll be in the cupboard from now until Christmas." "We won't do anything, honestly." We said at the same time, but he didn't believe us, no one did. **Harry and I always had weird things happen, one time I was so mad, a thunderstorm appeared, and after I cooled down it would disappear, and one time Aunty P did a horrible hair cut on us, but it didn't work because are hair grow back during night, but that earn us weeks in the cubby. **"...roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," **Uncle V said, as a motorcycle overtook them. **"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remember suddenly. "It was flying."** I face palm, and cover Harry's mouth before they kick us out of the car in the highway, giving him dagger glares, with my eyes which were my natural blue-green color. **Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!" Dudley and Piers snickered.** "He knows that, it was only a dream." I said Cooley, protecting my idiot younger brother. **It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked **them what they wanted before they could hurried them away, they bought them a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't horrid either, I thought, knowing Harry was thinking the same thing. "That gorilla looks like a black-hair Dudley." Harry said nodding his head to the gorilla, making me snorted. "Don't insult the gorilla." I said smoothly, smirking at Harry's defeat. Everything was going great, but it doesn't take an idiot to known it was all too perfect to last. After eating lunch, we all went to the reptile house.** It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. There were lizards and snakes crawling and slithering** over wood and stones. So like usual, Dudley went to the biggest snake in the whole zoo, which was fast asleep. **Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils. "Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.** **"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.** **"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away. **After Dudley shooed away, I walked up to the glass. The snake woke up, and slowly, very slowly, raised its head, so it was level with mine and it winked. I stared in awe and confusion since snakes don't have eyelids so they can't blink but right now, I didn't care. **The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave **me** a look that said quite plainly: "I get that all the time."** "I know," Me and Harry said together. I gasped and turn around to see her younger brother looking at her. "You scared the crap out of me!" I whispered. The snake gave them a look that said, "Same, you can't sneak up on people, jeesh." "Sorry," Harry mumbled, "Can I ask him something?" "Sure why not." "**Where do you come from, anyways?" Harry asked. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it. Boa Constrictor, Brazil. "Was it nice there?" **I asked. **The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and **I continue read on: **This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see - so you've never been to Brazil." As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind **made Harry, the snake, and I jumped. **"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!" Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.** **"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry **and I** in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry **and I **fell hard,** me hitting my head, knocking me out slowly**. on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened - one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror. **The glass had vanish and Pier and Dudley were in the snake's tank. The last thing I saw was the snake sliding past us, and I could have sworn a low hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come, thanksssssssssss amigossssssssssss." Then it all went black.

* * *

When I woke up, Harry explain what happen next after I black out. No meals. and stay in the cupboard, and also how Pier ratted them out about the snake. I sighed. "Harry do you remember a green light, the night are parents died?" I asked. "Yup, every time I think of it I get a burning pain on my forehead." "Same...I wish they weren't dead, I want a real family..." "We are family, forever and always." "Forever and always?" "Forever and Always." Harry said confirming it, as we remember all the strange accidents, like when a man came up to us and bow, but they always disappear, this always happen, one time someone hugged her, but they always vanished always. After a couple a hours of talking, we drifted into a dreamless sleep.


	5. The Letters From No One

******I do not own Harry Potter(I wish I did though) I own only my OC Charlotte, J.K owns everything else**

**AN: I decided that it will be mostly in Charlotte POV, less work :P**  
After the escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earner us our longest- ever punishment. So long, by the time we were allowed out of the smallest cupboard again, it was the summer holidays. Doing homework was the hardest thing being stuck with your annoying younger brother in the smallest thing in the world, I swear because of this whole snake thing, I got the worst grade I ever got, an A-, urgh. Actually **Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches. **I could tell Harry was glad school was over, I mean, I would to. I am bullying since being the only 11 year old (I turn 11 a couple weeks ago, it is now July 17th) , in high school, but Harry had it a lot worst. Sure I was shoved, teased, and got a couple physical scars on my arms in science from my lovely partener, but Harry had no friends, while I had at least one, and there was always Dudley's Gang. Ugh I would so beat the crap out of them if I could. Dudley's group consist of some boys who always came over named **Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader.** And what pissed me off, if that Malcolm always chased being trying to touch and kiss me, and when he wasn't they were chasing Harry, also known as Harry Hunting. I was sitting next to Harry who was extremely happy, who was telling me he wasn't going to the same school as Dudley who got accepted into Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings and how Piers was going there to. I never knew I could see him so happy, his giant goofy smile just made me smile even wider, which ended up with both of us laughing, but Harry had to go to Stonewall, which I heard was horrible. **One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry **and I **at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let** us **watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years. That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobby sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life. As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins he looked so handsome and grown-up. **Unlike Harry who look like he was going to blow up from laugher, I just laughed and laughed, but they ignore it well for awhile. "SHUT UP FREAK!" They shouted, shutting me up. The next morning Harry and I, when we looked for breakfast, we smelled the most gruesome thing, it smelled like road-kill. "Um what is this?" I asked Aunty P, her lips tighten every time as they also way did when we dared to ask a question. "Harry's new uniform," she said. We look at the bowl again. "I didn't realize it had to be..so..wet?" Harry said. **"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia **looking at Harry**. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished." **I snorted, "I highly doubt that." I muttered. "Did you say something?" she snapped. "What happen to Do not ask question." I asked, and then sprinted away, to the other room, where Dudley was whacking things with his stick.

**They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.**

**"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.**

**"Make Harry get it."**

**"Get the mail, Harry.**"  
**"Make Dudley get it." **Me and my said in harmony

**"Poke **them **with your Smelting stick, Dudley."  
**We dodge the stick, and ran to the mail box. **Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Harry **and I. "Did any of your friends, send wrote us?" "Even if they did, why add you name?" I mumbled, also holding the envelope.  
**Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake: **

**Mr. H. Potter **and Ms. C. Potter

**The Cupboard under the Stairs**

**4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging Surrey  
The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. **We flipped the envelope over, I saw Harry's hand trembling, we saw **purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. "Hurry up, boy**, girl **!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs." He chuckled at his own joke. **We went back to the Kitchen, still staring at our letter. We hand **Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.**.

**Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.**

**"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. -."  
"**Shame she didn't die." I muttered while opening the envelope, but Dudley had to ruin it. "Dad, Harry and Charlotte's got something. At this point we were the pint of unfolding out letter, **which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.**  
"That's Ours!" We shouted, trying to snatch it back. **"Who'd be writing to you." sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.**

**"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped. "Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!" They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, **Charlotte** and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick. "I want to read that letter," he said loudly.**

**"I want to read it," **We said** furiously,** "as it's written to us, not you." **"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.** We **didn't move. "I WANT MY LETTER!" **We** shouted. "Let me see it!" demanded Dudley. "OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall **then turned around and grabbed me and shoved me into the hall**, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole, **while I watch entertain**; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor, **while I put my earn against the door and listen. **"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address - how could they possibly know where** they **sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"** **"Watching - spying - might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly. "But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want -" **I could hear** Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.** **"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything...** **"But -" "I'm not having **two** in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took **them** in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense." That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited **our** in **our **cupboard. "Where's **our** letter," **we asked** the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to **us**?" "No one. It was addressed to you **two** by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."** **"It was not a mistake," **I snapped**, "it had **our** cupboard on it." "SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.**

**"Er - yes, Harry **and Charlotte **- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you **two are **really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.** "Why now? It been to bloody big, since we were 5!" I snapped at his excuse. **"Don't ask questions!" snapped **our** uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."** **The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom.  
It only took Harry one trip **and me two(I had mostly books)** upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been cancelled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want **them **in there... I need that room... make **them** get out..."  
Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. **I** was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing **we'd **opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.  
When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry **and I,** made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter and **Ms. C. Potter **, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -'"  
With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, **us** right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind, **while I watch.  
**After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with **our** letter clutched in his hand. "Go to your cupboard - I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at** us**. "Dudley - go - just go."**

The next morning Harry woke me up, telling how he tried to get his letter, but accidently stepped on our Uncle's face, while I on the other hand was trying to figure out what was so bad, well good, for us in that letter that made Aunty and Uncle P and V so PO'd and knew where we slept. Sadly after sad attempts, We walked down stair the next day, expecting Uncle V to be at work, only to see Uncle V, hammering the mail slot shut. "WHAT'S SO BAD IN THAT LETTER?" I screech, but was ignored. **"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."** **"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon." "Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.  
On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for **us**. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom. Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.**  
**On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to **us** found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor. "Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly." Dudley asked **us **in amazement.  
"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today -" Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry **and I **leapt into the air trying to catch one. Out! OUT!" Uncle Vernon seized **us** around the waist and threw **us** into the hall.  
"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!" He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway.**

**Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.  
They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake'em off... shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this. They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.**

I finally fell asleep on Harry's shoulder hoping, one day, we would get our letter. We finally got to a hotel and **ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table. 'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter **and a Ms. C. Potter. **Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk." She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:** Mr. H. Potter and Ms. C. Potter  
**Room 17**

**Railview Hotel**

**Cokeworth**  
We** made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked **our **out of the way. The woman stared. "I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following he from the dining room.  
"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear." Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.**

**"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he." Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon.  
Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.**

**It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley snivelled.**

**"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. "**  
"It's almost our birthday," I whispered in Harry's ear. "Happy early Birthday to us, Happy early Birthday to us, Happy early Birthday dearus, Happy early Birthday to us." "Thanks." He said, hugging me.  
**Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.**

**"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!" It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.**

**"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!" A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old row boat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.**

**"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!" It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.**

**The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.**

**Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shrivelled up. "Could do with some of those letters now, eh." he said cheerfully.** "Shut up you fat git." I muttered so only Harry could hear me. I despise Uncle V more than Aunty P. He always rubs everything in are face, but it gives me some satifcation that I am smarter than him.  
**He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. **I** privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer **me** up at all. As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few mouldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry **and I **was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.**  
I could tell Harry was having a hard time sleeping, so I woke him up. "It's almost midnight." I whispered, winking at him. Every year, we wait until midnight, draw a cake and blow it out(we made it with dust). **Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that **we'd** be able to steal one somehow.**

**Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?**

**One minute to go and **we would** be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty... ten... nine - maybe **we**'d wake Dudley up, just to annoy him**

**- three... two... one...**

**BOOM.  
The whole shack shivered and **we** sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.**


	6. The Keeper of The Keys

**"BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly. There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them. "Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you - I'm armed!" **

**There was a pause. Then - SMASH! The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.**

**A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. **

**The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.**

**"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh. It's not been an easy journey..."**

**He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.**

**"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.**

**Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. **

**"An' here's Harry, **Charlotte**!" said the giant.**

**Harry **and I **looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.**

**Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.**

**"Las' time I saw you, you** two **was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes, but you Charlotte, look more like your mother with the hint of red and you greenish eyes.."**

**Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. "I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"**

**"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.** "Wicked." I said it awe, giggling a little. "Anyways- Harry, Charlotte," said the giant turning his back on the Dursleys, "A very happy birthday to you Harry, got summat fer yeh here." My eyes widen as he pulled out of a cake, that said 'Happy Birthday Harry'. "Who are you?" Harry asked. I glared at him and whacked his head. **The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."** He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's than mine whole arm. **"What about that tea then, eh." he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind." The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. **

**Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley." **

**The giant chuckled darkly. "Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry." **I coughed, and started laughing. "Um What is a hogwarts?" I asked

**Hagrid looked shocked.**

**"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"** "All of what" Harry and I said. "ALL OF WHAT!" Hagrid thunder.**"Now wait jus' one second!" He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.**

**"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "That this boy **and girl**!-knows nothin about ANYTHING!"** "Ummm, I know how to do math, writing, and stuff, Harry here, well I don't know if you has anough brain to-" I was cut off my Harry smacking my head.

**But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world." **

**"What world?" **Harry and I asked. **Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode. "DURSLEY!" he boomed. Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at **us. "But yeh must know about yer mum and dad," Hagrid said. "I mean, they're. You two are famous." "Wait are parents? Famous? Were they?" I asked "Yeh don' know..yeh don' know..." Hargid sighed. "Yeh don' know what yeh are." **Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.**

**"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy **and girl **anything!" A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage. **"Yeh never told them. Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer them. I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from them all these years." "Kept us from what." I asked eagerly.

**"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.** "Harry...Charlotte-yer a wizard an' witch." After a long period silence, I discover, that I must break it**. **"A what?" I gasped "A witch.." He said looking at me, "And a wizard o'course," he sat back down on the sofa, "An' a thumpin' good'un, I'd reckon, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be. An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh two read yer letter." Harry and I strech are hand out and took the envelope, that was the same like the rest. We opened it and saw a letter and read:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

**Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) Dear Mr. and Ms.**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**

**Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall,**

**Deputy Headmistress**

Millions of question pop in my head, I was going to ask one but my brother beat me to it. "what does it mean, they await my owl?" he asked, the giant.

**"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill, and a roll of parchment.**

**With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that **Harry and I could read upside down:

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Given Harry and Charlotte their letter._

**Taking **them** to buy **their**things tomorrow.**

**Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.**

**Hagrid**

**Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone. **I looked at Harry and mouth: Did that just happen? Harry just nodded**"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight. "**Their** not going." he said. Hagrid grunted. " I like to see a great Muggle like you stop them," he said. "**What the bloody hell is a muggle?" I asked, beating Harry to it. **"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's **your two **had bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on." "**We swore we would stop that rubbish when we took them in," said Uncle Vernon, "we swore we'd stamp that out of them! Wizard and Witch indeed!" "I knew you were hiding something!"I snapped, "Though I never thought it would be this." I put my hand on Harry's shoulder, he was so mad he was shaking and turning red. "You knew! You knew that I am wizard, and my sister's a witch!" Harry mutter. **"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you **two **not be, my dratted sister being what she was. Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak!"**  
"**But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!" She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.**  
**"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew **you two would **be just the same, just as strange, just as - as - abnormal - and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"** I turn a sick color of pale like my brother, but I snap. "Blown up? You told us they died in a car crash!" I scream. **"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal!** Harry and Charlotte Potter not knowning their own story when every kid in our world knows their name!" "They were murder weren't they?" I asked my voice breaking. Harry paled and look a his sister. "They were killed by a sometime a green light, Weren't they." tears where streaming down my face. "How'd did you know?" Hagrid asked in shock. "It was a inferment," I mumbled, "I am not stupid, I know a car crash won't give you scars in a shape of a crescent moon or a lightning bolt," I turn to Harry. "I am sorry I didn't tell you about my theory, I didn't want you to get worried or scared, I never thought I was right." "Its Okay," Harry muttered, knowning he can't be mad at her, he understood way. "What did happen?'

**"Well, its best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh - mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..." He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows -"**

**"Who?"**

**"Well - I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does." **

**"Why not?" **

**"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..." Hagrid gulped, but no words came out. **"You don't have to tell us." I offered, glaring at Harry.

**"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.**

**"Nah -can't spell it. All right - Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right."  
"Dark days, **Harry and Charlotte**. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him - an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway."  
"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side."**

**"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You **two were** just a year old. He came ter yer house an' - an' -" Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn. "Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad - knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find - anyway..."** **"You-Know-Who killed 'em An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill **you two**, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer **foreheads**. That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh - took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even - but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous,** Harry and Charlotte**." "No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts - an' you** two were** only a baby, an' you lived." ** "If you do mind me asking, but what ever happen to Voldemort, oh um you-know-who?" I asked, while Harry nodded. "Great question Charlotte, but I heard yer a genius, so could yer guess?" "Errr, I asume he disappear, maybe he is dead or not, but he isn't killing anyone." I said. "Wow, yer are a genius, got yer mum's brain, I think he is still out there, he doesn't had enough human left in him in to die.

**People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back."** **"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you **two** finished him, **Charlotte and** Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on - I dunno what it was, no one does - but somethin' about you **guys** stumped him, all right."** I shoke my head, my brother and I..magical. It was ridicules, but something told me to trust him, so I did, but I could tell Harry on the other hand was still skeptical. "I believe you hagrid." I said not postivive, smiling while walking towards the giant, but Harry pulled me back.  
**"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think **we can be a wizard or a witch**." To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "Not a wizard **or a witch**, eh. Never made things happen when you was scared or angry." Harry **and I** looked into the fire. Now** we **came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made **our** aunt and uncle furious with **us** had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit** us**, hadn't **they got their **revenge, without even realizing **what they were **doing it. Hadn't they set a boa constrictor on him? **I walked **Harry and I looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.** **"See." said Hagrid. "Harry Potter** and Charlotte**, not a wizard nor witch - you wait, **you'll two **be right famous at Hogwarts."**

**But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.**

**"Haven't I told you ther're not going." he hissed. "**She will be going to her regualer highschool and **he's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it . I've read those letters and they needs all sorts of rubbish - spell books and wands and -"**

**"If they wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop them," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter' s son an' **daughter** goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad." "**Their** name's been down ever since they was born. **They're** off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won't know themself. **They'll **be with youngsters of **their** own sort, fer a change, an' **they'll **be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled-" **

**"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.  
But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"**

**He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley - there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry **and I** saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers. Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them. Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard. "Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."  
He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows. "I'll Be grateful if yeh **two** didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm - er - not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff - one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job."**

**"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.** "Harry." I scolded in a whisper

**"Oh, well - I was at Hogwarts meself but I - er - got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore." **

**"Why were you expelled?"** "HARRY!" I yelled whisper. **"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that." He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry **and I**.**

**"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."**


	7. Diagon Alley

**I do not own Harry Potter(I wish I did though) I own only my OC Charlotte, J.K owns everything else**

I woke up to a great snore, lovely right, I woke up to see, it wasn't a dream. Hagrid was there sleeping on the couch. Deep down I really want it to be a dream, not having your parent's murder in front of your eyes, but reality isn't fair. I turned around to sleep my brother sleeping, I could see the look of pain on his face, realize how big of a pressimistic Harry can be, so I decided to take the advantage of it. "WAKE UP YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!" I screeched perfectly mimicking Aunt Petunia voice, waking Harry in a jolt. When he woke up, his eyes went to Hagrids(who happens to be a deep sleeper) and back to mine with a glare. "Was the necessary?" he mumbled. "Yes, yes it was," I said with a giggle, "I can't believe we are magical." " Neither can I." Harry mumbled, looking up at the sunny roof. There we realized a owl came and started to attack Hagrid's coat. "Hagrid!" Harry said loudly, "There's an owl-" " Pay him" Hagrid grunted.  
"Uh what?" We asked, confused.  
"He isn't doing it fer free."  
"Um how much?" I asked  
"5 knuts.'  
"What?"  
"The tiny brown ones." he mumbled, while Harry picked the knuts and gave it to the bird, which flew away after his payment.  
"Well," Hagrid yawned getting up, "Best be going know Harry, Charlo-"  
"Charlie, Hagrid, call me Charlie." I said with a smile.  
"Charlie," Hagrid said continuing, "Lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London and buy yeh both yer stuff fer school."  
"Um Hagrid, I pretty sure our Uncle said he wouldn't be paying for anything." I muttered, my hopes draining, while Hagrid was putting on his boot.  
"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh two anything?" "But if their house was destroyed–"  
"Harry, are you really that stupid, since when does anyone leave money in their house, wizards and witches must have a bank of some sort." I teased Harry, mocking his stupidity.  
"Yer right Charlie, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank, have some sausages, there not cold."  
"Told you so." I said in a sing-song tone, while Harry pouted.  
"Only one, run by goblins."  
_"Goblins?"_ they said in astonishment.  
"Yeah –so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh both that. Never mess with goblins, Harry, Charlie. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything you want to keep safe– 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyways. For Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself proudly. "He usually get me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you two –gettin' things from Gringotts– knows he can trust me, see.  
"Yeh both got everythin'? Come on, then." Harry and Charlie followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water at the bottom after the storm. "How did you get here?" Harry asked as we looked around for another boat. "Flew," said Hagrid. "Flew?" I asked." Yeah– but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got you both with me."  
They all settled down in the boat, Harry and I still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying. "Seems like a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry and I another of his sideways looks, "If I was ter –er– speed things up a bit, would yeh both mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?" "Of course not," said Harry. I nodded, too. They were both eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off towards land. "Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked. "Spells– enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons' guardin' the high–security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way– Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."  
They both sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the _Daily Prophet._ Harry and I(well, not really) had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult for them, they'd never had so many questions in their lives. "Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page. "There's a Ministry of Magic?" I asked, before she could stop herself. "'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job.  
Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice." "But what does a Ministry of Magic _do?"_ she continued. "Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles hat there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country." "Why?" said Harry. _"Why?_Blimey, Harry, Charlie, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone." "He has a very good point." I whispered to Harry, who nodded in agreement. At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passerby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them, nor could I. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry, I? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?" "Hagrid," said Harry, he and Panting a bit as they ran to keep up, "did you say there are _dragons_ at Gringotts? "Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon." "You'd _like_ one? So do I now" I asked, mumbling the last part so quietly. "Wanted one ever since I was a kid– here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to the silbings so they could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary–yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letters, Harry, Charlie?" he asked as counted stitches.

Harry and I took the parchment envelopes out of their pockets.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh both need."

They unfolded second pieces of paper neither of them had noticed the night before, and read together:

_Hogwarts School_

_**of**__ Witchcraft __**and**__ Wizardry_

Uniform

First–year students will require:

-Three sets of plain work robes (black)

-One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

-One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

-One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

Course Books

All students should have a copy of the following:

_-The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

_-A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_-Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_-A Beginners' Guide To Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch

_-One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore

_-Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Seamander

_-The Dark Forces: A Guide To Self_–_Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

-1 wand

-1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

-1 set glass or crystal phials

-1 telescope

-1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry and I wondered.

"If yeh know where to go," Hagrid said.

Harry and I had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken–down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily, all Harry and I had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it would sell a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street with ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke s is it, that the Dursleys had cooked up? I highley doubt that, since the dursley lack imagination.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby–looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, we would not have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't' glance at it at. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other side as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry and I had the most peculiar feeling that only they and Hagrid could see it. Before either of them could mention this, Hagrid had steered them both inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hands on our shoulders and making their knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry and I, "are those –could those be–?" Right when he said that, the whole place became uncomforably silent. "Bless my soul," the old bartender said, "It is Harry and Charlotte Potter. What an honor" he hurried out of the bar and shook are hands. "Welecome back Mr. and Ms. Potter." I could tell Harry was extremly confused, while I was like a deer infront of I knew it, we were shaking our hands(awkardly) to everyone in the pub.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, Ms. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you both at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hands– I'm all a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, Ms. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle." "I remember you, you came up to be after school." I said, while Harry said, "I seen you, you bowed to me at the store."  
"They remember!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? They remember me!"

Harry and I shook hands again and again– Doris Crockford and Dedalus Diggle kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Charlotte, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P–P–Potters," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand first before doing the same with my hand. "c–can't t–tell you how p–pleased I am to meet you b–both."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked.

"D–Defense Against the D–D–Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N–not that you two n–need it, eh, P–P–Potters?" He laughed nervously. "You'll both be g–getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g–got to p–pick up a new b–book on vampires, myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry and I to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble,

"Must get on– lots ter buy. Come on, Harry, Charlie."

Doris Crockford and Dedalus Diggle shook each of the our' hands one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can a few weeds.  
"I don't trust that Qurirrell guy, Harry. That stutter was obviously fake." I whispered so only Harry could hear. "Why do you think so." "Because I am smart, so let's just avoid him,please Harry, for me." "Fine." Hagrid grinned at Harry and I.  
"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you two was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' to meet yeh both– mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first–hand experience…. They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, an' there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag –never been the same since. Scared of his students, scared of his own subject– now, where's my umbrella?" As much as I liked Hagrid, I still did not believe Quirrell was very innocent and scared.

Harry exchanged bewildered expressions. Vampires? Hags? While my head was thinking of buying every book, and memorizing it, just it case. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up… two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, you two."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered –it wriggled– in the middle, a small hole appeared –it grew wider and wider– a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Harry and mine amazement. They stepped through the archway, holding hands tightly. Harry and I looked quickly over their shoulders and saw the archway shrink itself back into a solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons–All Sizes–Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver–Self-Stirring–Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll both be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

I wished they had eight more eyes, while she knew Harry was thinking the same thing. Our heads turned in every direction as we walked up the street, both trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen sickles an ounce, they're mad…."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying –Eeylops Owl Emporium–Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry and my age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry and I heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand –fastest ever–" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments neither of them had ever seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon….

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the little shops. Standing behind its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was–

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as the three of them walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry and I. He had swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, the twins noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, sliver this time, with words engraved on top.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of there. Hagrid, Harry, and I made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry and Ms. Charlotte Potter's safe."

"You have their key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, as he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. I watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You–Know–What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he, Harry, and I followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the halls.

"What's the You–Know–What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my jobs worth ter tell the two of yeh that." Oh Hagrid, I sighed quietly. You never should never had said that, it made both Harry and I curious.

Griphook held the open for them. Harry and I, who both had expected more marble, were surprised. They were in arrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in –Hagrid with some difficulty– and were off.

At first they just went through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. I, on the other hand, just enjoyed the ride. It reminded her much of a roller coaster since the goblin wasn't even steering the cart.

Harry and I eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but they kept them wide open. Once, they both thought they saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and they both twisted around to see if it was dragon, but too late– they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"We never know," we called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry and I gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All theirs– it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from them faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry and I(mostly me) cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to them, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Harry and Lucy pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe fer yeh both." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck. I could tell Hagrid was having a hard time, so I started to hum a lullaby which got him to feel a little better.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and be trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" I asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, we were sure, and we both leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least– but at first they thought it was empty. Then they noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Both Harry and I longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal car, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside of Gringotts. We didn't know where to run first now that they both had bags full of money. Neither of them had to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that they were each holding more money than either of them had in their lives– more money than even Dudley had ever had, which made me very happy.

"Might as well get yer uniforms," said Hagrid, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, Charlie, would yeh two mind if I slipped off fer a pick–me–up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so we entered Madam Malkin's shop together but alone, both feeling nervous as they held hands.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dears?" she said, when the twins started to speak. "Got the lot here– another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood us on stools on either side of him, slipped long robes over their heads, called over another witch who went over to me, and they both began pinning them up to the right lengths.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Yes." I said, rather coldly, I got a very bad vibe from this boy, and I always trusted them.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

I were strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have either of _you_ got your own brooms?" the boy went on.

"No," said We said.

"Play Quidditch at all?"  
"Uh, No," We replied.  
_"I_ do– Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Do either of you know what house you will be in yet?"

"No," we mumbled, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been– imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.  
"Honestly, I rather be in Hufflepuff than be in Slytherin." I muttered, but the boy obvisouly didn't here it.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at us and pointing at three large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"Oh, that's Hagrid," I said, smiling as she waved to Hagrid.

"Yeah," Harry said, pleased that we both knew something that the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of _savage_– lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"We think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly. I nodded to show my agreement adding a very cool glare.

_"Do_ you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with the two of you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," I said shortly. I knew we both didn't feel like going into the matter.

"Oh, sorry," said the boy, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean and either way what does it matter." I snapped.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in. They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What are your names, anyway?"

But before Harry or I could answer or attack him, Madam Malkin said, "That should do it. You're done, dear."

"You're good too, honey," said the witch attending me. Not sorry or an excuse to stop talking to the boy, Harry and I hopped down from the footstools.

"Well, I'll see you both at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.  
"Sadly." I muttered.

We were rather quiet as they ate the ice creams Hagrid had bought them (two scoops of chocolate with sprinkles).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," We lied. We stopped to buy parchment and quills. We both cheered up a bit when they found a bottle of ink that changed color at it was used. When they left the shop, Harry said,

"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, I keep forgettin' how little yeh both know– not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make us feel worse," I said grimly. They told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"–and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in–"

"Yeh both not _from_ a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh both _were_ –he's grown up knowin' yer names if his parents are wizardin' folk. You both saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw the two of yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles– look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what _is_ Quidditch?"

"It's our Quidditch. Witch an' wizard sport. It's like –like soccer in the Muggle world–everyone follows Quidditch–played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls–sorta hard to explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but–"

"We're probably in Hufflepuff,"we said gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You–Know–Who was one."

"Vol–, sorry –You–Know–Who was at Hogwarts?" I asked.

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

We bought their books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag us away from _Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian, but I already went it an bought it, but hid it when Hagrid came.

"We were trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let the us buy solid gold cauldrons either ("It says pewter on yer lists"), but we got nice sets of scales for weighing potion ingredients and collapsible brass telescopes. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimey stuff stood on the floor, jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for two supplies of basic potion ingredients for Harry and Lucy, they examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and miniscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked their lists again.

"Just yer wands left– oh yeah, an' I still haven't gotten yeh both a birthday present."

I felt myself go red, looking to see Harry did to.

"You don't have to–"

"You've done so much already–"

"I know I don't have to, and I'm glad to help yeh both out. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd both be laughed at–an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yeh two an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everything."

Twenty minutes later, we left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. We were now carrying a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing(Harry's), and my barn owl who was sleeping next to her sister. We couldn't stop stammering their thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now– only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh both gotta have the best wands.

Magic wands… this was what we both had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Both Potters felt strangely as though they had entered a very strict library; they swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to them and instead looked at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. The very dust and silence in the shop seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry and I jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was loud, crunching noise and he got off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," we said awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you both soon. Harry Potter, Charlotte Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes, Mr. Potter, and you have more of her sister genes, but I see some of her red hair in your blonde, Ms. Potter. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to us. We both wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it– it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander came so close that he practically had his nose up against their foreheads. We could see themselves reflected in those misty eyes.

"And those are where…"

Mr. Ollivander gently touched the lightning and crescent moon scar on Harry and my foreheads with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that made them," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…."

He shook his head and then, to the twins' relief, he spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again…. Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er– yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't _use_ them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well now– Mr. and Ms. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pockets. "Which are your wand arms?"

"Er– well, we're both right-handed," I said.

"Hold out your arms. That's it." He measured us from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round our heads. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful, magical substance, Mr. Potter, Ms. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another witch or wizard's wand."

Harry and Lucy both realized suddenly that the tape measure, which was measuring between Harry's nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"These should do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. And Ms. Potter, have a go with this one. Redwood and unicorn hair. Nine inches as well. Slightly bendy. Just take them and give them a wave.

We took the wands and (feeling foolish) waved them around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched them out of their hands almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather, Mr. Potter. Seven inches. Quite whippy. And oak and dragon heartstring for you, Ms. Potter. Ten inches. Rather supple. Try–"

We tried– but they had hardly raised the wands when they, too, were snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no– here, an ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. And teak and phoenix feather, twelve inches, swishy."  
We tried. And tried. I had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was looking for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customers, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect matches here somewhere –I wonder, now–yes, why not–unusual combinations– holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." he said giving the wand to Harry. When Harry grabbed it I watch in awe when red and gold came sparking out of his on. Ollivander had a blank face an looked at me then at my scar. "I wonder..." He muttered, speed walking to the very end of the room, and grabbing the most dusty, and oldest box in the whole shop. "Try this one, Vine, dragon heartstring, 13 inches, hard.  
I grabbed the wand, and when I did, there was a nice heat touching my hand, and white, blue, green, yellow, red, gold, black, came sparking out. "Intersecting, intersecting..." Ollivander mutter.  
"What's is so intersecting?" I asked curiously. "Why," he turned to Harry, "Your phoenix feather, had a brother, who happen to give you two your scars." I shifted very uncomfortable, then he turn to me, "And your's was the first want ever to be made in the shop, your core was from the first dragon, when she was dying, gave to us, and she also had a birthmark just like your scar." I was to stun to say anything. "He turn to both of us back to talk about Harry's brother wand, ""Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…. I think we must expect great things from the both of you, Mr. Potter, Ms. Potter…. After all, He–Who–Must–Not–Be–Named did great things– terrible, ah, yes, but great."  
We paid our 7 galleons, and walked quickly out of the store.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as we made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry and I didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; they didn't even notice how many people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl and barn owl asleep in cage on Lucy's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; we only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped them both on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought them both hamburgers and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. We kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Harry, Charlie? Yer both very quiet," said Hagrid.

Harry and I weren't sure they could explain. We just had the best birthday in their life –and yet–we chewed their hamburgers, both trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks we're special," we said at last.

"All those people in the Leaky Cauldron," I said.

"Professor Quirrell," said Harry. I gave a low huff.

"Mr. Ollivander…" we trailed off. Harry continued,

"But we don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things from us?"

"We're famous," I said, hating all the fame, "and we can't even remember what we're famous for."

"We don't even know what happened when Vol–" Harry stopped himself, "sorry– when the night our parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you two worry, Harry, Charlie. You'll both learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll both be just fine. Just be yerselves. I know it's hard. Yeh've both been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts –I did– still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped us on to the train that would take them both back to the Dursleys, then handed them each an envelope.

"Yer tickets fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September –King's Cross– it's all on yer tickets. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me…. See yeh both soon, Harry, Charlie."

The train pulled out of the station. We wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; we rose in their seats and pressed their noses against the window, but we blinked and Hagrid was gone. "Hey Harry," I said trying to break the tension, "I bought every book in that store." I said with a wink opening my bag showing him. Harry just gave a short laughed, and we both went back to watching through the window.


	8. Poll:Important

What house should are lovely Charlie be?  
Hufflepuff  
Slytherian  
Ravenclaw  
Gryffindor


End file.
